The Adventures of a Boy Genius
by Lemon Cookies
Summary: The escapades of everyone's favorite doctor! CRACK drabbles.
1. Milk and Cookies

One day Reid walked into the office late and no one was there. Frowning, he tried to use his superior IQ to figure out where his team might have gone. 'Hmm,' he thought to himself. 'Maybe they got an urgent call and had to leave for a case without me.' Then he heard a muffled cry coming from the closet. 'If y=mx+b and pi is 3.14, than that is a distressed cry for help.' Thus, Reid approached the closet and flung open the door.

"I'm Dr. Reid from the FBI... well, actually it's the BAU, the Behavioral Analysis U-" But before Reid could finish his sentence, he was cut off.

"Mmmmm!" the victim said, brandishing a water gun.

Reid was analyzing whether the person before him was the unsub or the victim when he was suddenly squirted with a generous amount of body gel.

"Raspberry passion fruit," he observed. "I guess this means you're fruity as a nut cake."

The victim/unsub ripped the tape from his own mouth and screamed, "I was having some fun till a group of people came in here and I had to hide in the closet. They were talking about some serial killer who murders his victims via milk and cookies."

With dawning apprehension, Reid glanced over at the center table. There lay a plate of homemade chocolate chip goodness and a glass of two percent milk, which was the only kind of milk Reid drank. 'The killer must know me personally,' Reid presumed. No sooner had this thought occurred when Elle slipped out from behind the office door, dressed in sexy lingerie and holding a heart shaped paddle with holes in the middle.

"You know, Reid, you should really knock first."

Reid looked at the object in his colleague's hand in confusion.

"I don't think that's a very effective fly swatter," he pointed out. "There are holes in the middle. And I think you also forget to get dressed."

Being the genius he was and because the circumference of a circle is pi r squared, it didn't take long for him to put two and two together.

"Ooooooh! You were using your femininity to remove the unsub from the closet and put him in a compromising position."

Elle rolled her eyes. "Why don't you have some milk and cookies, Reid?" she suggested. "You've been looking rather skinny lately."

Reid was horrified.

"Elle, you're the unsub?!" His prepubescent voice shook with betrayal.

"No, silly willy, I'm Gideon. This is my Halloween costume; do you like it? I got a bikini wax and a wig and Elle's underwear. How do I look?

Reid tried to suppress the growing lump in his pants.

"Then who's in the closet?" he asked.

"Well," Gideon said, looking down at Reid's crotch. "You no longer are."

The man in the closet came out and said, "I'm Elle dressed as a serial killer who murders his victims via milk and cookies. Happy Halloween, buddy!"

Gideon grabbed a tutu from his cleavage and said, "Come on Reid, let's get you dressed up."

"And for god's sake, have some milk and cookies!" screamed Elle.


	2. Math

Reid and Morgan arrived at the office early. Everyone else had yet to arrive. Knowing that Reid liked to come to work in the wee hours of the morning, Morgan had decided to catch the younger agent when he knew he'd be alone.

"God, Reid, it's four in the morning. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you, actually. I thought you had a social life."

"Let daddy do the questioning, kid. You just answer."

"I was working on finding the last digit of pi."

Morgan grinned. "Wanna help me find a place for my digits?"

Reid glanced at Morgan before looking back down at his notes. "I don't understand," he said, before scratching them out with his pen in frustration.

Morgan laughed and punched him in the shoulder. "I'm just kidding," he reassured lightly. "Hey," Morgan said, growing more serious again. "I think I figured out the last two digits of pi, though."

Reid cast a doubtful glance upon his partner. "Really, Morgan? What?"

"Sixty-nine."

"Sixty-nine," Reid repeated, rolling the number around experimentally on his tongue and most definitely making Morgan's pants tighten. "Can you show me how you got that?"

"No problem, pretty boy. But you'll have to strip first."

"Morgan, I don't understand how my disrobing would be conducive to your explanation."

Morgan held up his hands in a placating manner. "I know it might hurt to hear this, Reid, but there is no such thing as Santa Claus. Also, there was a course I took back in the day that you never even enrolled in. Trust me when I say you have some catching up to do. Let me offer you a remedial course. Now subtract the clothes from this equation."

Reid shed a single tear. "But I've never been behind in anything!" And with much determination, he removed each article of clothing until he was simply standing in his birthday suit.

Morgan, on the other hand, expertly shed his own attire and moved in close to his prey. "You're the sub and I'm the unsub," he explained.

"What?!" Reid exclaimed, horrified.

"Nevermind. Think of it this way: we're like a fraction. You're the denominator and I'm the numerator. Get it?"

"But," Reid objected, "Zero can't be in the denominator. That'll make it undefined."

To that, Morgan replied, "This _is_ undefined, baby."

Just then, Hotch entered the office, spotted his two naked agents, and walked back out again.

"Wait!" Morgan called after him. "I was just teaching Reid some physics!"

"But I've already taken physics!" Reid pouted.


	3. Anatomy

It was a cold, rainy day. The team had been called out to a small town in Wisconsin to investigate a series of murders that included rapes. Hotch and Reid were assigned to the scene of the latest crime. An area in the town's park had been cut off from the public with yellow crime scene tape. Reid slipped under the tape and approached the body of the victim.

"I've never seen anything like this before," he gasped.

There, lying spread-eagle on the ground, the corpse of a woman was nude and exposed.

"You've never seen a choke victim before?" Hotch commented as he examined the purple finger marks on the victim's neck.

"No, not that." Reid shook his head. "I mean, I've never seen breasts quite like that before. Seriously, it looks like they're reaching out to grab me!"

"Reid," Hotch began patiently. "Those aren't breasts. Those are the victim's genitals."

Reid blushed in response. Hotch was fairly certain Reid had taken a human biology course somewhere along the line of his extensive education, but just in case, and because it had failed to make any lasting impact on the young man, Hotch made a mental note to correct the situation and bring his agent up to speed as soon as possible.

Reid may have taken a human biology course, but the female body looked different in real life than it did in textbooks. Who would have guessed that certain parts were not actually highlighted and labeled? Actually, now that Reid looked closer, it appeared that the body _had_ been marked in certain places with pink highlighter.

"Hey, Hotch, check this out. The unsub appears to be either female or gay."

"No, Reid," Hotch's patience was beginning to wear thin. "I was just preparing the body for your anatomy lesson. And I happen to have a penchant for pink!"

"Oh," Reid grinned sheepishly.

Hotch pointed to a highlighted part of the victim's body. "Now, tell me what part of the body that is."

"The belly button," Reid replied confidently. "Next."

"Very close," Hotch reassured. "You said it unintentionally."

"Ooooh!" Reid exclaimed. "It's the anus! I saw one of those the other day, back at the office!"

"Yes," Hotch said, trying not to grimace. "Morgan was teaching you physics."

"Yes," Reid confirmed. "It's amazing how diverse subjects intertwine. Not only where we doing physics, but it was human biology, too. And it was geometry. There's a certain angle Morgan showed me-"

Hotch cleared his throat. "Thank you, Reid. That's enough."

As if on cue, Morgan, covered in dark chocolate syrup, walked onto the scene of the crime.

"How's it going guys?" he asked, licking his fingers.

"Superbly," Reid replied. "Hotch was just giving me a lesson in female anatomy."

Morgan stared down at the body. "That's weird. Why would you use a woman who underwent a sex change?"

"Oh! No wonder the genitals look like they're reaching up to grab me."

Hotch looked confused. "I guess I missed it because it's so small."

Reid gawked. "But it's bigger than mine!"


	4. Chopsticks

A man with a mustachio arrived at Reid's apartment around six to pick the young doctor up for a dinner date. They pulled into Yaoi-Yuri Restaurant's parking lot fifteen minutes later. The mustachioed man held the door for Reid as they entered, but lo! As Reid glanced around, he soon realized that it was not a restaurant they had entered at all. No. It was Dante's Inferno full of dead, naked sinners and the toxic smoke of an eternal fire! Actually, it was a Japanese strip club.

Reid turned around to leave, but Mr. Mustachio had already called two strippers over. They were blocking the exit, and Reid didn't want to risk contracting a disease by trying to fight his way past them.

"Mmm," the robust red head said. "I've always had a thing for mustaches."

"Mmm," the slim blond said. "And I've always had a thing for children. Especially nerds."

"Sit," Mr. Mustachio said.

"Okay." Reid sat. "Just keep her away from me."

Mr. Mustachio sat opposite Reid as the two dancers giggled and ran back to their poles. Reid glanced at the menu that had been placed before him and quickly realized that he couldn't pronounce any of the items on it. Oh well, because the waiter had already arrived and Mr. Mustachio was ordering for him. That was some fast service!

"So… What would _you_ do for a Klondike Bar?" Reid asked, trying to initiate conversation.

"Definitely one of those strippers over there," Mr. Mustachio replied. "Maybe even you."

"Maybe even me what?" Reid asked in confusion.

"Never mind," Mr. Mustachio replied. "Just know that I like low-fat vanilla."

"That's nice," Reid said.

Maybe they should have gone to an ice cream shop then instead, because although he couldn't read the menu, from what he knew of Japanese restaurants, they did not serve low-fat vanilla ice cream.

Reid swore he heard a loud _meow_ and a slam. Minutes later the meals were served. Reid scanned the table for a fork and knife.

"Excuse me," he squeaked, addressing the waiter. "Where are the dining utensils?"

"Oh no no no, Reid," Mr. Mustachio interjected, waggling his finger. "At big boy strip clubs we use big boy chopsticks."

Mr. Mustachio passed Reid two sticks no bigger than number two pencils.

"You don't understand," Reid cried. "With these I will surely starve!"

Mr. Mustachio didn't look too concerned. "That's probably true. In that case, I'd just have to force feed you."

Mr. Mustachio's eyes twinkled evilly. This was all the motivation Reid needed to pick up the foreign utensils and begin to fling food across the restaurant in various attempts to reach his mouth. The food was definitely leaving the plate quickly, but not much of it was actually ending up in Reid's stomach. Mr. Mustachio opened his mouth and caught a piece of broccoli that had just been launched from Reid's chopsticks.

"See, Reid, this is your problem. You're always so busy feeding everybody else that you forget to eat yourself. Let me eat you for you."

At this, Mr. Mustachio tore off his mustachio. Underneath the disguise was none other than JJ!

"Oh, hi, JJ," Reid said calmly. "Have you seen the handsome hunk with the mustache who was just sitting where you are now?"

JJ slapped the fuzzy mustache back onto her face.

"Oh, there you are!" Reid exclaimed. "Where did JJ go?"

Mr. Mustachio gave Reid an odd look and raised a fuzzy brow.


	5. Chuck E Cheese's

It had been a long and draining case, so the team had decided to spend the night out to celebrate their success and unwind a little before they departed the next day. Hotch, Gideon, Morgan, Reid, Prentiss and JJ were walking down the busy streets lit up with nightlife, looking for a club or bar. They'd finally found a place that appeared to be hopping when Gideon gave Hotch a meaningful glance before the former entered the bar. Prentiss and JJ followed him inside, but when Morgan and Reid tried to cross the threshold, they were blocked by Hotch's arm.

"What the hell, man?" Morgan asked, pushing at Hotch's arm and when he didn't yield, trying to sneak under it.

"Gideon and I have decided it would be best for Reid if he spent the evening somewhere… a little more child-friendly. It wouldn't feel quite right leading him straight to corruption."

"Great," Morgan replied, preparing to take a wild, running leap over Hotch's arm, "But what has this got to do with me?"

Hotch glanced at Reid, who was busy digging through his bag, mumbling something about a hangnail and scissors. "He feels comfortable with you. I need you to watch him, keep him company."

Morgan's mouth dropped open. "With all due respect, Hotch, why don't you go with him? I'm used to, you know, having a life and a drink every once in a while."

Morgan swore he saw an evil smile creep onto Hotch's grumpy little face. "Because," Hotch said, "I'm your superior and this is an order." And he slammed the club door shut.

Morgan swore loudly.

"Bless you," Reid squeaked as he clipped at his pinky nail.

"Come on," Morgan directed, motioning for Reid to follow him.

"Why?" Reid asked. "I thought we were all going to par-tay."

"Do me a favor and don't talk," Morgan grumbled.

"Okay, daddy," the younger man replied as he scuttled along in Morgan's wake like a duckling following its mother.

The pair continued to walk in disgruntled silence until Reid stopped suddenly.

"Reid, hurry up," Morgan called over his shoulder.

"Hey, look, Morgan!" Reid exclaimed excitedly. "This looks like a really fun place to party!"

Morgan followed Reid's gaze. "Reid, my man…" he said, shaking his head and placing a hand on Reid's shoulder.

Reid ignored his friend. "Come on, Morgan," he said, and started to run towards the building.

"Reid," Morgan called, "Look both ways before crossing the street!" But soon, the young man had entered the building and, still shaking his head, Morgan hurried to catch up.

There were children jumping around on colorful balls, children playing at slot machines, and children racing vehicles at illegal speeds and not wearing seat belts or helmets. It was Chuck E. Cheese's! Being an underprivileged youth, Reid had never before set foot in such a plethora of magic. Morgan was wishing that he had never set foot in such chaos. Currently, Reid was at the counter trying to haggle for tokens. As Morgan approached, he caught the tail end of Reid's desperate pleas.

"…If 32 degrees Fahrenheit and zero degrees Celsius is freezing, than you need to give me C + F + five billion tokens, please."

The employee gave Reid an alarmed look. However, he was soon looking far more alarmed when Morgan drew his gun.

"FBI. Hand over the tokens!"

"H-how many tokens?" the poor employee stuttered.

"As many as the kid wants."

Reid had his fanny pack filled with tokens.

"Wow Reid, you got a lot of junk in your fanny pack," Morgan snickered, following Reid to a game.

"I grew up in Vegas but I was never allowed to play there."

"Uh huh."

"Since I'm not physically coordinated, would you mind pressing that button exactly when I tell you to? Statistically, I can predict the precise millisecond the light will hit the winning bulb."

"Yeah, sure, Reid."

Morgan skillfully poised his hand above the lit button as Reid slipped two tokens into the slot. Reid's eyes followed the spinning light in circles while Morgan waited. Seconds passed. Then minutes.

"Reid?" Morgan said, glancing in the genius's direction.

Reid was passed out on the floor.

"Reid! Come back to me buddy!" Morgan yelled, shooing children away from Reid's body.

One little girl had climbed on top of the fallen agent and was trying to slip tokens into his mouth, thinking he was a ride. Morgan pulled out his gun and the little girl quickly fled the scene. He then dropped to his knees and began slapping Reid's soft little baby cheeks. His face ones. Reid groggily opened his eyes.

"I got dizzy." He smiled sheepishly.

Morgan decided that Hotch and Gideon were wrong. Reid probably would have been safer at the bar than at Chuck E. Cheese's.


	6. Unicorn

It was Saturday. Reid was on his way to the library where he tutored college students. It wasn't quite as exciting as his job at the BAU, but he needed something fun to do over the weekends. Today, he was meeting with his favorite tutee, Nathan Harris.

"I had this dream about killing prostitutes last night," Nathan said conversationally as he sat down across from his favorite FBI agent.

"That's nice," Reid replied. "Now, if the slope of a line... wait, what?"

"I had this dream last night – well, actually, I have it a lot – where I stab this bitch ass whore in the gut."

"That's really strange," Reid replied, "Because the team just fond a bitch ass whore stabbed in the gut. Are you sure it was a dream, Nathan?"

Nathan's lower lip began to tremble. "Yes, I'm sure it was a dream because I woke up in bed with my pants full of goo."

Reid looked confused. "Well, I don't know what gooey pants have to do with this, but I might need to take you in."

A half an hour later, the whole team was seated at a table in the library.

"So, Reid," Morgan mumbled, "What's so important besides Algebra that you had to call us all to the _library_ on a _Saturday_ morning?"

Reid glanced at Nathan.

Nathan looked hurt. "I told you, my pants were full of goo!"

"Ah!" Morgan cried, putting a sexy hand over his eyes. "Don't shout!"

"Don't tell me you're hung over," a disgruntled Gideon admonished.

"I didn't know we'd be called in," Morgan protested, rubbing his temples gingerly.

Hotch ignored his colleagues, turning his attention to Reid and his tutee. "Reid, you seriously felt that a teenager ejaculating was something you needed to call us in about?"

"What?" Reid looked confused again. "I called you in because Nathan here was just telling me about his dream in which he killed prostitutes."

Gideon and Morgan had the grace to stop bickering and look more composed.

"You think he's our unsub?" Gideon asked.

"I think it's definitely a possibility," Reid nodded.

"How else would he know about the murders?" Prentiss added.

"Good job, Reid, let's take him in," Gideon commanded.

"Wait!" cried Reid, standing dramatically. "Where did he go?"

The rest of the team followed Reid's example and leapt dramatically to their feet.

"Oh, no!" they cried in unison, Gideon's low baritone causing every bookshelf to tremble.

"Hurry! Split up and find that sexual sadist!" Hotch yelled, and they each ran off in different directions.

Reid bent down and crawled under the table. There was Nathan, staring right at him and brandishing a knife.

"Aaah!" Reid screamed, turning to scramble back out from the table's underside.

"Shhh," Nathan whispered, grabbing onto Reid's arm and trying to hold him still. "Wanna know what I really dreamt about last night?"

"N-no! I mean, why don't you tell the whole team?!" Reid exclaimed loudly, trying to draw his colleagues' attention.

"They don't like me," Nathan pouted. "I just want to tell you."

Reid flounced around but he couldn't escape Nathan's iron grasp.

"Alright, what was your dream really about?" Reid asked, trying to buy some time.

"Unicorns," Nathan admitted. "You were a unicorn and I was riding you."

"Was I horny?" Reid asked, intrigued.

"Yes," Nathan replied as he cut his shoelace. Some little prankster had tied it to the chair leg. "We flew over the rainbow and found a pot of gold," he added. "And when I woke up, I knew I just had to tell you-"

"Reid!" Gideon's head popped under the table. "Are you okay?"

"No!" Reid cried, jumping into Gideon's arms. "But I think Nathan's innocent."

Gideon dropped Reid. "Okay, then. Let's all go back to bed. Everyone, this guy's not our man!"

The team filed out of the library, leaving just Nathan and Reid once again.

Reid cleared his throat. The two of them were still situated under the table.

"Do you want to continue your lesson…?" Reid asked awkwardly, scratching his head.

Nathan shrugged and then batted Reid's hand away, moving to scratch the agent's head for him.

"Ouch. You have long nails," Reid whined.

"Mmm, you have a long neck," Nathan responded.

They spent the rest of the hour rubbing heads under the table.


	7. Hooky

It was a sunshiny day outside and this made Reid particularly gay. He decided that because the sky was blue, he was going to play hooky from work today! He opened the front door, walked outside and took a deep breath of fresh air. Oh, the possibilities.

"Oh, Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, please shine down on me!" he sang. "Did you know it takes the sun's light eight minutes to reach us on earth?" he asked Mrs. Sparrow, who was perched in a nearby dogwood tree.

"Kaw, kaw!" Mrs. Sparrow replied before flying away.

Reid sighed. He always went to work; he really didn't know what to do with himself when he wasn't there. All he knew was that the sun was shining and it was making him a bit punch-drunk. He skipped clumsily down his driveway and began leaping down the road without much coordination. Rather suddenly, he was stopped by a police officer.

"Hey, kid, have you been drinking?"

"N-n-n-no," Reid squeaked, covering his mouth and giving the officer a deer-in-the-headlights look.

The officer glared at him suspiciously. "And shouldn't you be in school?"

"N-no, I graduated when I was twelve. Well, technically, I should be at work. I work for the FBI. Here, let me show you my badge."

"Don't move!" the officer yelled, drawing his gun. "Keep your hands where I can see them!"

Reid slowly and nervously raised his hands above his head. "I think there's a misunderstanding…" he began.

"That's what they all say," the officer replied as he tackled Reid's arms behind his back and handcuffed him.

Reid was unceremoniously thrown into the back of the car. The officer sat in the driver's seat and helped himself to a jelly donut.

"I need your parent's number," he demanded.

"Um…" Reid said. Fortunately, he had Gideon's number memorized. "1-800-CAUGHT-U," he recited.

The officer snarled. "A real number!"

Reid started to cry. "But Mommy's in the sanitarium and I don't want to trigger an episode! Please, Mr. Officer!"

The officer gave Reid an odd look before popping the remainder of the donut into his mouth. "Then give me your daddy's real number, kid."

Reid replied with Morgan's cell number, which he also had memorized, of course.

Morgan had given him it the day they'd studied physics together. He'd said for Reid to call him if he ever wanted "Lesson Two." This wasn't lesson two, but Reid definitely needed some help. The officer dialed the number.

"Morgan." Reid heard his colleague's voice boom from the earpiece.

"Sir, this is the police. Your son was caught skipping school –"

"My son? I don't –"

"He's right here, if you'd like to talk to him." The officer held the phone up to Reid's ear.

"Um…hello, D-daddy."

"Reid?" Morgan asked incredulously. Reid could hear him attempting to muffle his laughter from the other side of the phone.

"Yes, Mor- I mean Daddy," Reid replied through clenched teeth. "I need you to come pick me up and take me to wor- I mean school."

"I don't know, son." Morgan seemed to be catching on. "You were skipping, right? Are you sure you're not getting exactly what you deserve?"

"I-I can't make it in prison! I don't want to do physics with anyone but you!"

Morgan sighed. "Alright, Reid. Let me talk to that officer again."

Reid nodded to the officer and the old pig put the receiver back to his snout. "Y'ello. Yes. Yes, okay." He hung up. "Alright, Spence…"

Reid choked.

"Your daddy wants me to give you a ride to his work so he can deal with you."

"O-okay," Reid said, not sure if he felt dread or excitement. "Can you turn on the siren, just for fun?"

Reid and the officer arrived at the BAU building just a couple minutes later. Reid was suffering some pretty bad whiplash and could hardly walk straight. The officer took the cuffs off the young man and led him inside by the scruff of the neck.

"Reid, you're late," Hotch said dangerously, and then stopped in his tracks. "What the hell?"

"Who are you?" Reid whimpered. "Where's Daddy?"

Just then, Morgan appeared on the stairs. "Spence!" he shouted, descending the steps three at a time. "You are in deep shit."

"It's always the adopted ones," the officer commented, shaking his head to himself.

Deciding that he did not want to know what type of kinky role-playing his agents were up to, Hotch hurried back to his office to cleanse his mind. As soon as Morgan grabbed hold of Reid's ear, the officer tipped his hat and left the building. Morgan and Reid just stood there for a moment, listening to the sound of receding siren.

Then, Morgan sprung into action. "Come on, young man. You need a spanking."

With that, Morgan flung the stick-thin figure that was Reid over his shoulder and hauled Reid off to his office. Hotch, who was occupying the office across the hall, promptly inserted earplugs.


	8. Undercover

A series of murders had occurred at a local high school and the BAU had been called in to investigate. Hotch and Reid were assigned the roles of substitute teacher and transfer student in order to infiltrate the classroom without raising suspicion.

Hotch stood in front of the class full of disorderly high schoolers eyeing the rambunctious crowd. He cleared his throat like he did at the BAU to get everyone's attention. One of the kids continued to chatter.

"_Reid!"_ Hotch shouted in his mind, careful not to blow their cover.

"Quiet," he ordered instead. "We have a new student."

This announcement effectively triggered a few excited whispers.

"Percival," Hotch ordered. "Stand up and introduce yourself."

Reid coughed in displeasure; he did not approve of his new name.

"Thank you, Mr. Gaylord," he replied. "You all can just call me Perce. I'm eighteen and… I'm from Australia, eh. Aye mate."

Hotch smiled dangerously.

"Ah, yes. Perce and I share a bit of family history. My mother taught ballet to disadvantaged children in Australia, and from what I've heard this young man really had a thing for it. Isn't that right, Perce?"

"Yes. I assisted Mr. Gaylord's mother with the ballet lessons. It was so rewarding working with disadvantaged children. My favorite, in fact, was none other than Mr. Gaylord's son."

"Unfortunately, my son was born with a similar condition to Percival's. But, being a humanitarian, my wife decided she could handle two disadvantaged children. So, she adopted Percival. Class, meet Percival Gaylord."

A few kids snickered while the others eyed Reid apathetically. Reid sank into his seat once more as his face reddened into a dark cherry hue. Now that Percival had been taken care of, Hotch though he should maybe start profiling… er, teaching.

"Okay, everyone. Today we're learning about psychology." Hotch grabbed the seating chart off the teacher's desk and studied it. "Judy, who is known as the father of psychology?"

"Um… Freud?" Judy guessed. "What does this have to do with physics?"

Hotch ignored Reid's hand, which was waving vigorously in the air.

"No," Hotch said, "and unfortunately your physics teacher contracted some disease so he cannot be here and my area of expertise is the mind so that's what we'll be talking about today."

Reid's hand was still waving in the air.

"Yes, Percival?" Hotch sighed.

"I have to go pee!"

"Hold it in!" Hotch snapped. "Okay. We're going to play a game. Raise a hand if I name a trait or habit you exhibit."

The class waited. Reid rocked back and forth in his seat, then placed mismatched socked feet on the table. Alas, Hotch could not resist.

"Who wears mismatched socks?"

Reid's hand shot into the air.

"And who prefers to spend most of his or her time alone?"

Again, Reid raised a hand along with a handful of other students.

Hotch was keeping a tally next to the student's names, and so far Reid was the only one to have raised his hand for every question. He'd even raised his hand for the embarrassing ones, like 'Who has trouble talking to the opposite sex?' That meant that according to the profile Hotch was rapidly compiling, all signs pointed to Reid being the unsub. If only he didn't have such a mentally disturbed young man as a subordinate. Maybe if Reid really had taken therapeutic ballet in Australia he wouldn't be such a pain in the ass. Hotch sighed and looked up from the sheet of paper.

"Okay, who has homicidal fantasies?"

A girl who strongly resembled Prentiss in high school tentatively raised her hand, as well as Reid. Hotch ignored the girl, turning furiously to face his subordinate.

"Really, Percival?"

Reid looked aghast.

"Why don't you just wait for me at home and I'll deal with you later."

As Reid slunk out of the classroom, hopefully to return to the hotel where they were staying, Hotch turned his attention back to the girl. Hotch glanced down at the attendance sheet to find the girl's name.

"Okay, Emily, I have a few que-"

Hotch cut himself off abruptly. Wait, Emily? He glanced back down at the attendance sheet. How had he not recognized one of his agents? And more importantly, why the hell was Prentiss sitting in a high school, dressed like she'd been hit by a bus?

After the unsub had somehow miraculously been found because Hotch is sexy, and after Hotch had collected both his wayward agents and made sure none of his other subordinates were lurking around, he called an emergency midnight meeting at the BAU.

Once everyone had filed in sleepy faced (except for Reid, who was still pouty faced) and Prentiss had removed the black makeup from her face, Hotch informed them of the meeting's purpose.

"During the undercover assignment Reid and I went on, I unfortunately found out some disturbing things. Now, it's not my place to say what they were…" Here, he glanced meaningfully at Reid at Prentiss, "…but I think we could all use some therapy. That being said, I've scheduled group therapy for all of us, tomorrow at nine in the morning."

Morgan groaned.

"I want everyone to attend."

As Hotch and the others began to file out, Morgan cuffed the back of Reid's head.

"Ow! Morgan, it wasn't my fault," he whined. "I _told_ Prentiss it wouldn't be a good idea for her to come…"

"Well, Reid, I'm not happy. No more physics for you."

Reid wailed.


	9. Abduction

**A/N:** Spoilers for Revelations… kind of.

* * *

Tobias was a good man. It was Charles who wasn't so good. Raphael was just okay. This was Reid's analysis as he sat handcuffed to the wooden chair. His feet burned unpleasantly from being whacked and his head throbbed from being punched. He could hardly focus his eyes, let alone think.

Suddenly, a figure appeared before him.

"God?" Reid asked.

"Close," replied Raphael, in a voice that was a mixture of Michael Jackson's and Amanda's from Season Four. "I'm an archangel."

"That's great. I am so in need of saving right now. See, there's this psycho…"

"I ain't here to save you, boy!" Charles' voice. "I'm here for crumpets and tea." Tobias.

"Did you know that the Irish actually drink more tea than the British?" Reid yelled nervously. "I like crumpets."

Charles socked Reid in the mouth.

"Jinx, you owe me a decaf," Reid giggled.

"Punch buggy, no punch backs!" Charles hollered, socking the grimy agent in the jaw once more.

"AAAAHH! I'M HAVING A SEIZURE!" Reid screamed. "SOMEONE KILL HOTCH!"

As a disgusting glob of mucusy slobber dribbled down Reid's chin, he fell to the ground and began convulsing.

Tobias decided to go for a late evening stroll in the graveyard. As he admired the roses he then decided to have a leisurely conversation with himself. After a while, Tobias returned to Reid and knelt down beside the slumbering princess.

"He will not wake until he receives his true love's kiss," Tobias acknowledged.

And with that, he locked lips with Reid's drooly chops.

Seven slobbery minutes later and Reid was respirating on his own, despite the fact that he'd been brain dead for a whole entire hour. He looked to his left. _Why, there's a gravestone_, he thought.

"Kill Hotch," he repeated, not quite sure what he suddenly had against the man. No one would ever call him Percival again though.

"Gladly," either Tobias, Raphael, or Charles stated. "But what will you do for me?"

"I'll play Russian Roulette with you," Reid offered. What did he have to lose besides his guts and a lot of blood?

"Okay, but first I need you to dig your own grave."

Tobias picked up Reid and his chair with his Hercules muscles and carried him outside. Reid felt like a Jewish bride. He blew kisses to the ghost witnesses.

"Adultery and necrophilia," Charles grumbled. "One more strike and you're OUT."

"I actually raped Cupid and Gabriel last night, so I guess I'm all out of strikes," Reid confessed.

"Sinner!" Raphael screamed, hurling the chair into the sky.

Meanwhile, Gideon, Hotch, Prentiss, J.J., and Morgan were all sitting around the round table room of the BAU for their therapy session. Dr. Cox was the FBI psychiatrist, and was also present. None of them were very happy. This was probably due to the fact that they'd all arrived on time at nine for the session, and it was now five o'clock the next day. Hotch paced the room, grinding his teeth and curling and uncurling his fists.

"Hotch," Gideon tried to reason, "Reid isn't going to show. Maybe we should just call it a day. Reschedule sometime next week."

Hotch rounded furiously on Gideon.

"No! No one leaves until we have this session. Right, Dr. Cox?"

Dr. Cox was curled in a corner, muttering something about crazy FBI agents and being held hostage.

Prentiss giggled, hysteria beginning to set in from being deprived of food and water for over twenty-four hours.

"I just can't believe we have a doctor whose last name is 'cocks'," she whispered to Morgan, who looked uneasy.

"I don't know, I don't think I'm entirely comfortable with that."

"Why don't we just start the session now then?" Gideon asked, once again trying to reason with Hotch.

"We can't until Reid arrives," Hotch explained.

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Prentiss cut in. "Kid's got issues."

Just then, Garcia burst into the room, concern etched all over her face.

"Garcia, if you knew we were here the whole time, why didn't you save us sooner?" Prentiss inquired.

Garcia shrugged.

"It's entertaining watching you guys suffer, I guess. Speaking of watching people suffer…" She held up a disc. "This was mailed to us."

The five agents were huddled around Garcia's computer screen, waiting for her to play the disc. No one had bothered to do anything about Dr. Cox, who was still mumbling in the round table room. Everyone watched with baited breath as Garcia pressed 'play'. The video showed a blond man with facial hair in a black sweatshirt approaching Reid, who was handcuffed to a rickety wooden chair.

"Wait," Prentiss said, and Garcia paused the video. "Is he actually handcuffed to that?"

Hotch leaned in to get a better look.

"I don't know; it's hard to tell."

"I don't think he is," Garcia said.

"Why doesn't he get up then?" Prentiss asked. "Fight or try to run away."

No one said anything. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Garcia resumed the video. Reid was now being hit on the foot with some sort of log and making odd, yelping noises. Morgan cleared his throat and turned away, rubbing a hand over the lump in his pants in what he hoped was an inconspicuous way. The rest of the agents continued watching.

When the blond man revived Reid, it made Morgan very jealous. Those strawberry lips were _his_ to slobber on, not to mention that _he_ was the only one allowed to paddle whatever inch of Reid's skin he desired. Whoever this man was, he'd be dead by the time Morgan was finished with him, that was for sure.

Morgan was so busy working himself into a righteous fury that he didn't notice what'd happened next in the video. Hotch had sure noticed, though.

"He just… he wants to kill me!"

Hotch now had a pretty good idea what his agent's homicidal fantasies had been about. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"But Hotch!" Gideon called. "We need your help in the rescue effort."

"Like I'd assist in the rescue of anyone who decides to send a psychopath after me," Hotch grumbled under his breath.

Just then, a chair came crashing through the ceiling of the BAU. Perched upon it was Spencer Reid, holding on for dear life. There was no time to get out of the way, and unfortunately, flying chairs do not come with steering wheels. Hotch was lying crushed beneath the combined weight of a chair and Spencer Reid (the chair was probably doing the majority of the crushing) before he even knew what had hit him.

Upon hearing the commotion, the agents rushed out of Garcia's bat cave.

"Spence, you're all right!" J.J. exclaimed, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Yeah," Reid agreed, "But I don't think Hotch is. Looks like Tobias has some pretty good aim."


	10. TheRapist

Gideon, Hotch, Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, JJ and Garcia where sitting together around a table in a small white room. The white room was part of a building that was part of a psychiatric institution. The room was white, that is, to everyone but Reid. He kept squealing in delight over the original artwork that decorated the walls. The original artwork consisted of him and Tobias, doing the dirty. Whoever had drawn it was clearly very talented.

Finally, a terrified looking man entered the room. He wasn't the same shrink as last time, but Dr. Cox had shed light upon the group that had held him captive. Dr. Cox now needed his own therapist. But that was a different story entirely. The new doctor glanced around at the dangerous agents. This time, at least they were chained in place... er, restrained.

Yes, it was common procedure to handcuff all clients and chain them to their chairs. However, there hadn't been enough handcuffs to go around, so Morgan and Reid were sharing one pair. One cuff was around Morgan's left wrist and one was ensnaring Reid's chicken neck. This was what was forcing Reid's face to be uncomfortably close to Morgan's crotch. It was also what was forcing Reid to see famous works of art, as Morgan had many masterpieces tattooed on his bod. He'd only gotten them recently, right after Reid had been held hostage by Hankle, in fact. At first, the thought of Hankle slobbering on Reid had really pissed Morgan off. But now, he thought, it was rather sexy. That, too, is an entirely different story, so back to the matter at hand. And not Morgan's matter in Reid's hand but the matter of the fragile psyche of the BAU team.

The new doctor sat down in the coziest chair and folded his hands in his lap nervously. The team could smell his weakness. They were special like that. The good doctor was aware of this. He knew he needed to establish dominance because that was what was done in the animal world.

So, without a moment more of hesitation, he took a wild leap onto the table and ripped off his shit displaying his hairy beer belly. The dominant males in the pack, aka everyone but Reid, growled and tugged at their chains, longing to leap onto the table and display their gorgeous muscles.

Even Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia considered themselves dominant males. They had nice muscles too.

Reid, however, started to whimper and hid his head under the table just as Morgan managed to wiggle out of his pants.

"That was odd. Why was there a big, hairy creature hiding in Morgan's pants?" Reid wondered.

The creature seemed scared, and Reid felt sorry for it. "It's okay, you can come out," he cooed, petting its head gently. Sure enough, the creature started to sneak out of its hiding place.

Meanwhile, Dr. Beer Belly climbed off the table and sat back down on his big comfy couch. Prentiss sneezed. Morgan moaned.

There was a thud from under the table. Apparently Reid had hit his head. The thud was followed by "Bad Fluffy! No spitting!"

Dr. Beer Belly cleared his throat. "Let's start out by doing an activity so we can get to know each other better."

The team mumbled. They were still rather bitter about Dr. BB's aggressive display of dominance. Only Reid seemed excited about the prospect of an activity. He reappeared from beneath the table and panted excitedly. Morgan patted Reid's face and gave him a cookie.

"Let's all go around the room and say our names, why we think we're here, and..." Dr. BB paused for a moment, thinking. "Our favorite memory. It can be recent, or it can be from far in the past. Why don't we start with you, then, young lady?" He gestured towards Prentiss.

Prentiss bared her teeth.

Reid bounced excitedly in his seat. "Oh, me, me! Let me go first!"

"Very well, young lady," Dr. BB said to Reid. "You may go first."

"I'm Spencer Reid. I'm here because I've been a bad boy. My favorite memory is of the time Morgan and Hotch and Gideon and I all had a sleepover."

Hotch clapped a hand over his face, Morgan winked at Dr. BB, and Gideon's face turned a deep scarlet. The therapist began to scribble shamelessly in his little notebook.

Gideon was not scarlet from embarrassment, oh no. He was angry! "I've had it," he growled, "with these motherfucking snucks on this motherfucking plane."

Morgan whimpered uncharacteristically and shoved Fluffy back into his pants.

Dr. BB calmly observed Gideon's outburst and then asked, "Would you like to talk about it?"

Gideon shook his head. "I just want to live in a cabin somewhere. Write some letters. Have an easy retirement."

Reid smiled nostalgically. "You mean that cabin in which he had the sleepover? That was a beautiful place."

Gideon shook his head. "Look, Reid, I know you have abandonment issues and this will bother you for years to come, but you'll take it stoically like a man. That's why I'm leaving. You need to learn to take it stoically like a man."

Reid's lip quivered but he bit it into submission. Finally, he spoke. "It's okay, Gideon, you can leave early. I'll meet you back at the BAU office in twenty-three minutes and fourteen seconds, then."

Gideon's face turned even redder, but before he could say anything, Hotch spoke up, ever the peacemaking team leader. "Gideon, what's a snuck?"

Gideon's blood pressure rose to dangerous levels. "A snuck is a typo, Hotch! And it's 'motherfucking snuck!'"

With that, Gideon left the room.

"Oh, he won't make it very far," Dr. BB said. "This is a locked ward."

"Yeah, plus he's still chained to the chair," Morgan pointed out.

Reid looked rather nonplussed for the current dramatic turn of events.

"What are you thinking about, young man, sitting there with that pouty, contemplative expression?" Dr. BB inquired.

"I was wondering if I could have one of those lollipops in that jar over there," Reid replied, nodding towards the filing cabinet near the door. "Later, I want to show Morgan a new physics trick that Tobias taught me."

There was silence that was only broken by the snoring of the three girls, who weren't getting very much screen time.

Suddenly, Dr. BB ripped off his face mask and revealed his true identity!

_TBC…_


	11. Unmasked

From beneath the mask, there appeared… a grizzly bear like man!

"What the hell?" Morgan yelled.

"Holy Hay Zeus!" Reid squealed, pulling at his hair and straining against his chains. "You're David Rossi! I've read everything you've ever written, including your livejournal blogs!"

Rossi eyed him wearily. "You look like a pipe cleaner with eyes."

"What a perceptive and accurate observation!" Reid fangirled.

Rossi grimaced and turned towards the rest of the team. "Since Gideon has retired-"

"Get these chains the hell off of me!" a voice growled from the hall.

"Since Gideon has retired," Rossi started again, "I'll be taking over- I mean, taking his place."

"Welcome to the team," said Hotch. "But first, there are a few rules I think you should know about."

"Rules?" Rossi eyed Hotch critically.

"Yes, rules. First off, I'm in charge. Second, I'm in charge. And third, we all work as a team. Do you understand?"

"And fifth of all, we do not talk about fight club," Morgan added.

"What?" Reid asked, confused. "You mean 'fourth of all', Morgan," he corrected.

"Shut the hell up, Reid!" shouted Morgan, nibbling on the younger agent's ear.

"Mercy!" Reid cried.

"Right," said Rossi, scribbling in his notebook.

"Dave, is there something you'd like to share with us?" Hotch asked pointedly.

"No, I'm just jotting down some notes for my LJ."

"'Today I killed fifty-three ducks and had nineteen vivid flashbacks,'" Reid recited, quoting Rossi's blog entry from yesterday.

"That's word-for-word from my diary!" yelled Rossi, astonished.

"Yeah, we know," the room choired in unison. Garcia grunted in her sleep.

"And she's weird!" Rossi added.

Everyone nodded.

"You know, since you're not actually a therapist, you could be charged with incapacitating federal officers," Prentiss pointed out.

"And you could be charged with impersonating a troubled teenager," Rossi retorted, pointing at her made-up face.

"Let's just go back to the BAU office," Hotch sighed, finally realizing that they were all beyond help.

Since first of all, Hotch was in charge, second of all, Hotch was in charge, and third of all, some hippie crap about love and unity, Rossi pulled out his big key and inserted it into everyone's handcuffs.

"Hey, Reid," Morgan hissed into boy genius' ear, "stuff these in your pants." He indicated the handcuffs. "Tonight, I'm gonna turn acute ass obtuse."

"Oh, Morgan, speak dirty to me," Reid mewled as he obliged, stuffing the handcuffs into the big empty space in the front of his pants.

"Yeah, I was talking about Garcia's ass. Duh."

Reid cried.


	12. Cravings

**A/N: **Spoilers for Elephant's Memory... sort of.

**

* * *

**

"Hello, everyone. I'm Spencer, or at least I think I am. Spencer has – I mean I have – I've seen a lot of things. A lot of big, bad, scary things, one of which was in Morgan's pants. But I started becoming an addict after Tobias threw me in the air and I felt what it was like to fly. Anyway, I stopped using a few months ago, but then Morgan refused to do physics with me anymore, and since then I've been experiencing – in your literature – cravings."

Suddenly, the muffled tune of 'Here Comes the Bride' erupted from Reid's back pocket.

"Crapola. I gotta go," Reid said, pulling his cell out of his pocket and exiting the room.

Reid felt a hand grab his shoulder as he galloped out of the building. "Yah!" he yelled, turning and executing a flying lotus kick.

Morgan skillfully covered his junk and delivered a chop to pretty boy's stomach. "C'mon, Reid. The team is going to Texas and I was sent to retrieve your late ass." He scooped Reid off the ground and carried him to the jet bridal style.

Meanwhile, in Texas, little baby Owen was lighting some dude on fire and shooting some cops in the face. By the time the team arrived, however, Owen was nowhere to be found. They met with the local police to gather info for a profile inside of Owen's dead father's house.

"Owen's father was a jackass," Reid quipped. "And look, Owen really liked the color black."

"Check yourself," Morgan snapped. "Hotch looks like he wants to go Mama Praying Mantis on you and bite off your head."

"Reid, let's go check out Owen's school," Hotch ordered. "Morgan, you stay here and continue profiling the room." With that, Hotch led Reid out of the room by the head.

At Owen's school, the principal looked like a prick so Reid pursed his lips and crossed his arms. It wasn't until later that Reid discovered just how accurate his first impression of the prick was.

Walking into Principal Prick's office, Reid and Hotch noticed PP watching something on his computer screen. Was that… child porn?

"How dare you watch Owen jacking off in your office?" Reid screeched, lunging at PP.

Hotch stepped into the dust cloud and emerged with Reid over his shoulder. "We need to talk," he barked, leaving JJ with horny PP.

Hotch walked to an empty classroom, shut the door, and bent Reid over the desk.

"Reid, you can't just do something like that. Principal Prick is a principal. Of course he watches students jerk off!"

"Then he should have seen this coming! If he was always peeping at Owen!"

"No one sees the signs, Reid! You know that!"

Reid struggled against Hotch's hold on him. "What, so you're punishing me?"

"No," Hotch growled seductively, pulling at the fabric of Reid's khakis. "I'm using you."

"Morgan's already doing that," Reid retorted, as Hotch undid his belt.

"Morgan's done with you."

"What?" Reid's lip quivered.

"Oh, come on, Reid, is this not good enough for you?"

"Unnnhhh, very good," Reid agreed, as Hotch did evil things with his hands. "I think I like… being used… as much as I like… physics…"

"Well, too bad," Hotch replied aloofly, letting go of Reid. "Go back to Morgan."

Reid groaned, forming his mouth into an epic pout. He then flounced out of the room, his radiant locks bouncing up and down.

"Hey Reid," Morgan said as the door to Owen's room slammed open.

"Don't speak to me, Morgan, you football-playing, door-kicking, playboy bunny-poster-hanging high school jock!"

Morgan jizzed in his pants. "Did you really just tell me off?"

"What did I say about talking, Morgan?" Reid huffed before sitting down in front of Owen's computer.

Morgan leaped from the bed where he'd been inspecting suspicious stains on the mattress and grabbed a handful of Reid's hair. "What has gotten into you, kid?"

"More like what hasn't gotten into me," Reid grumbled. "As in Hotch, just now. And you. What happened to physics?"

"I'll tell you what, Reid. Once you start acting like a good little boy again, I'll teach you something new, like how to model in big boy magazines like daddy does."

"Morgan, you're a model? Why haven't I seen you in any of my Muscle Men Magazines?"

"Because I model for the BAU magazine, Unsubtle Unsub. I pose naked in different positions in which unsubs leave their victims."

Reid nodded thoughtfully. "Oh, yes, now I remember. Gideon got me a five-year subscription for my eighteenth birthday. But I always thought that model was the guy who did the Old Spice commercials."

"What? Reid, he doesn't even look like me, except for the pretty muscles."

"And skin color."

"What? Reid, no. You can't tell a caramel Frappuccino from a low fat hot chocolate with whipped cream."

"That's what my mom used to say," replied Reid thoughtfully. Morgan decided not to ask.

"Anyway, what are we supposed to be doing?" Morgan asked instead.

"I don't know, but my spidey-senses are tingling and telling me I need to get back to the Sheriff's Department now."

"Uh, okay, I'll give you a lift," Morgan offered, swooping Reid up and placing the boy on his shoulders. "This will give you a chance to tell me about your childhood."

"When I was a wee tot in high school, I was never very good with sports. So one day after school, I was practicing my football skills so I could impress the children. But as I was trying to kick the football, my shoelaces got all tangled around the goal posts. It took me all night to untie them, Morgan. All night."

"Sounds traumatic," said Morgan. "Is that why you always wear loafers or Velcro?"

"The old lady who lives next door comes over and helps me with the Velcro," Reid explained.

"Woah, Morgan," Reid said when the Sheriff's Department came into view. Reid was now on a horse because he had used Old Spice that morning and anything was possible. He dismounted and tied the black stallion to a stop sign before entering the building.

"Oh, hi Reid," Hotch said. "We already have Owen Savage and everything's dandy."

"WHAT?" Reid yelled. "I WAS GOING TO SAVE THE DAY!"

Hotch backhanded Reid across the face and dragged him back to the jet.

"Why don't you join a boy band if you want to be the star, and stop working at the BAU?" Hotch snapped as they took off into the sunset.

"Mark my words, Hotch. One day I will!"


	13. Boy Band

Reid was eating shrimp on Hotch's desk. He absentmindedly spread his cock tail sauce around on the paperwork, humming to himself jovially. Today was the day that he was going to come out about what he had been doing since the Owen Savage incident. It wasn't that he could no longer bear to keep it a secret, he just couldn't stand the team not knowing that they were working with someone special. He wanted them to know who he really was because if there were secrets between the team, then how were they supposed to concentrate on strangers' secrets? Or something. He was waiting for Hotch because Hotch deserved to know first.

Hotch's nose perked up. He would know the scent of cocktail sauce from a mile away, and he was pretty sure this was Reid's cocktail sauce, coming from his office. His Hotchner senses were tingling and rarely were they wrong, except that one time he decided to butt heads with a killer and ended up losing his wife in the process. But that was less traumatic than Reid's brush with death, apparently, because it was dropped even quicker than the Dilaudid arc. Anyway, Hotch entered his office, nostrils flared.

As soon as Hotch entered, Reid spread his lanky body out across the desk and began to emit a high-pitched whining sound. It took Hotch a few minutes of intensive concentration to realize that Reid was actually saying something. "Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away, beating like a drum and it's coming your way." Suddenly Reid arched upright and threw a hand in the air. "Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, bass -"

"Reid, get the hell off my desk or I'll kick your ass -" Hotch's baritone voice boomed in perfect rhythm.

"Ah, Hotch, that rhymed!" Reid squealed. "You have got to join my band!"

"What? You have a band?"

"Well, it's more like I am the band," Reid admitted sheepishly, "But I'm working on recruiting my teddy bear Mr. Snuggles and one of my mom's hallucinations."

"Reid, this is not the BAU musical. You can play with your band in your mother's imaginary garage, unless they actually have garages at the sanitarium, but when you are at work I expect your full attention on practical matters. Like where you spill your sauce, for instance!"

"But Hotch, I was just following your instructions," Reid whined. "You told me that if I wanted everything to be about me, I should join a boy band."

Just then Morgan entered the room. Reid and Hotch could no longer argue because they were both staring at the big, beautiful man and his new haircut. Or rather, hair extensions. He had locks that would make Justin Beiber spill some cocktail sauce from his shrimp. "Uh, I'm here to audition?"

"Oh, right this way," Reid squealed, ushering Morgan to his former seat on the desk. "And what position are you trying out for?"

"Main oralist," Morgan replied, hopping up on the desk.

"I believe the correct term is main vocalist," Reid corrected, "and unfortunately that position is taken by me."

"Reid, my man, you are a back up singer through and through. Now back that ass up! Quit playin'! Back that ass up!"

At this point Hotch intervened, having had a sudden and unexplained change of heart. Or he was just eager for an opportunity to manipulate his agents. "I think there's only one way to work this out," he said in an authoritative tone. "I wanna take you to a gay bar!"

Morgan's mouth dropped open and Reid's eyes glazed over. "I went to a gay bar with Rossi the other night," he whimpered.

As if on cue, Rossi burst through the office door, his loud baritone preceding him. "It's okay to be gay, let's rejoice with the boys in the gay way!"

Suddenly Reid lurched and awoke to find himself lying face down in a pool of drool. He was on the leather couch on the private jet. Rossi was shaking him, trying to arouse him. "It's okay, he's okay. Let's rejoin the boys at the Subway."

So Prentiss, JJ, Garcia and Rossi exited the jet to go get some food and left Reid to his dreams.


End file.
